


Fluffy Ficlet Collection

by codewordpumpkin



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/pseuds/codewordpumpkin
Summary: Mini fics written for requests made on Tumblr (specifically for the "Writing Prompts!" list)
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 55
Kudos: 183





	1. #62: Squeeze my hand if you can hear me

**Author's Note:**

> Needed a short break from the angsty prompts... Hope you enjoy!

“I love you.”

_What?_

“That’s what I wanted to say. That’s what I wanted you to hear.”

_Did Elizabeth just—_

“Red?”

_Elizabeth_ _… She—_

“Raymond…” Her soft fingers delicately gripped his own, brushing a thumb over his coarse knuckles. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

_How could she possibly—_

She was standing in front of him, their toes touching, so close he was afraid she’d hear his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. But even if she did, surely, she couldn’t blame him. Not when he could feel her heat warming his skin. Not when she was staring at him with her pretty brows furrowed in concern, her pearly teeth tugging at her plump bottom lip, her deep blue eyes glittering like the ocean he’d once wished to sail…

Not when he was pretty sure she’d just told him—

He squeezed her hand, suddenly terrified she’d let go.

“I hear you, Lizzie,” he croaked, swallowing thickly. “I… I _heard_ you.”


	2. "Why are you such a tease?" (1) + "May I have this dance?" (17)

**“Why are you such a tease?” (1) + “May I have this dance?” (17)**

Elizabeth wondered how long it would take.

She could feel his eyes on her, tracking her every movement as she danced with Markus Reeves, a hotshot investor and tonight’s target. Each step revealed a slit of smooth thigh, each twirl bounced the soft curls of her hair against her exposed back, and each time, she felt the heat of _his_ gaze wandering up her dress and crawling down her spine, so tangible it might as well have been his fingers, his lips. 

Deciding to speed things up, she slid the hand that was on Reeves’ chest up to the nape of his neck, silently asking he lower his head so she could bring her mouth to his ear and—

“May I have this dance?”

She smirked.

_Two minutes and forty-three seconds._

“Actually, we’re still—”

“Sure,” she cut him off, smiling in polite dismissal. “You’ll find me later, won’t you, Markus?”

“Of course.”

He was barely out of earshot before an arm snaked around her waist.

“Hello, Red,” she said with suppressed glee, “Fancy meeting you here.”

His mouth brushed the lobe of her ear as he growled, “ _Why are you such a tease_?”

“Is that why you couldn’t last three minutes?”

“Oh, sweetheart…” He pulled her flush against him, the fronts of their bodies pressed so snugly together that she could feel just how much of a tease he thought her to be. “You know perfectly well just how long I’m able to last.”

Dangerously close to losing control and jumping him in front of everyone, she struggled to remain on even ground. Clearing her throat, she leaned back just enough to meet his heavy-lidded eyes. “You could have ruined our mission, you know.”

“Please, Lizzie, I saw you bug his collar.” The amused lilt in his voice suddenly dropped as he said, “Speaking of Mr. Reeves, he’ll be disappointed to learn of your discreet departure.”

“Oh? Am I to be going home so soon?”

“Yes—with me.”


	3. #45: Can you two please get a room?

The two of them were in their own world.

How that was even possible, though, he didn’t know.

The large screens displayed gruesome crimes, the walls held photos of hardened criminals, the click and clatter of the room was too loud to just be background noise, and yet, here they were, leaning into each other’s space and flirting like a couple of teens instead of working like they were supposed to.

Reddington continued to whisper.

Liz continued to giggle.

Aram continued to clear his throat.

Ressler had had enough.

“Can you two please get a room?” he snapped, bringing his hands to his waist.

Red turned to him lazily, smirking. “Donald, when did you get here?”

Liz giggled again.

Aram cleared his throat again.

Ressler’s temples throbbed.

***

“Where’s Agent Keen?” Cooper asked, strolling into the war room less than an hour later.

Ressler hadn’t even noticed their absence, too consumed by his work with Aram.

“Probably with Reddington,” he muttered, trying not to think of where they might be or what they must be doing.

“Well, have you finished the report on Wright?”

“It’s on my desk,” he said, already heading towards his and Keen’s shared office. “I’ll get it right now.”

He didn’t register the strange noise until it was too late.

“What the hell?”

Liz was sitting on her desk with her bare legs spread—thankfully, she wasn’t facing the door—and Red was sitting on her chair, his face buried between her thighs.

The bastard didn’t even bother to look up—which, Ressler realized, was probably a good thing.

Liz turned her head over her shoulder, just enough to meet his flushed gaze shamelessly. “You said,” she bit her lip, “to get a room.”

“ _Not our office!_ ”


	4. "Kiss me" (#4) + "Right now?" (#53)

Elizabeth was fuming.

They’d been sitting in this bar for the past fifteen minutes, trying to get some intel from one of Red’s contacts. Unfortunately, this contact of his also happened to be an old flame—and she was doing an embarrassing job of trying to reignite the spark.

Raymond, for his part, was doing his best to subtly reject the blonde bimbo’s advances. When the woman had tried to kiss him on the lips, he had turned his head to the side. When the woman had tried to snuggle into him, he had put space between them. When the woman had tried to slide her hand into his jacket, he had gently—to Elizabeth’s growing irritation—gripped her wrist and removed it from his body.

Now the toe of her Louboutin was trying to slither up to a place it had _zero_ right being.

_Oh, hell no._

Elizabeth discreetly knocked over Red’s glass of scotch, causing Blondie to yelp and jump from her seat. “Oh my god. I am _so_ sorry,” she said, not sounding sincere even to her own ears.

“Elena,” Red was doing a pretty good job of concealing his amusement, “why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up.”

The bitch instantly went from pissed to cougar.

“But Raymond, you’ve always liked me wet.”

_Excuse me?_

He must have sensed that Elizabeth was now far past her limit, as he laid a calming hand on her thigh and convinced the bitch to go to the fucking restroom before she got herself killed.

Not exactly in those words, but whatever.

“Lizzie,” he said softly, sounding fondly exasperated.

“What? She’s lucky all I did was spill a drink on her.”

“You know we need her to—”

“Which is why all I did was—kiss me.”

He arched a brow, bemused by the sudden change in topic. “Right now?”

“Red, I swear, if you don’t kiss me right this goddamn second—”

Before she could finish her very real threat, his lips were on hers, slowly coaxing them open just the way she liked. He tasted of scotch and cigars and _Red_ , and that, combined with his hands in her hair and wrapped around her throat, it took about two seconds for them to forget everything but each other. She was practically in his lap by the time Elena made herself known by loudly clearing her throat.

Elizabeth didn’t let her open her overly injected mouth.

“Sorry, _Eleanor_ , but we have to get going. So nice meeting you—and, oh, I hope your Chanel wasn’t stained.”

With that, she tugged at Red’s hand and dragged him outside, not letting go until they were inside the car Dembe had been patiently waiting in.

“Lizzie—”

“We’ll find another way to get the damn intel, Red.”

“But—”

“Do you want to get laid or not?”

That shut him up.

He pretended not to hear Dembe chuckle.


	5. “My eyes! My virgin eyes!” (46) + “If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.” (52)

“What time is he coming here?”

“Well, I told him to meet us at two, which means he’ll be here in about an hour.”

“But it’s ten minutes to two right now.”

“Exactly.”

Elizabeth hummed, wrapping her arms around Raymond’s shoulders. “So, we have time?”

“Why? What did you have in mind?” he asked, voice dipping as he brought his hands to her waist.

“Well, we could always read a book, watch some television, bake some—”

“Yes, all fine activities, but I was thinking of something more… physically engaging than that,” he said, smoothly popping the buttons of her blouse.

“What,” she helped him with the sleeves, “like yoga?”

“As much as I love seeing you in leggings, I greatly prefer when you wear nothing at all.” Unzipping her pants, he let them fall to the floor, instantly transfixed by the smooth skin of her exposed legs. Kicking the discarded clothing to the side, she was just about to slip out of her heels when he stopped her. “Leave them on.”

Damn near trembling in anticipation, she pressed her lips against his mouth, his jaw, his ear, all the while divesting him of his many— _too many_ , as far as she was concerned—layers. Too impatient, she got as far as his shirt and belt before she was propped up on the table and he was standing between her legs.

“Red,” she moaned when he nipped at her through the lace of her bra, “I need—”

“My eyes! _My virgin eyes_!”

_What the—_

“ _Glen_ ,” Red snapped, hiding Elizabeth behind him, not bothered by his own state of undress. “What are you doing here? How did you even get in?”

“Denbie let me in,” Glen shouted unnecessarily, his hands covering his eyes. “And what do you mean, _what am I doing here_? I’m here because you—wait,” he peeked through his spread fingers, “did you call me here for a threesome? You know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.” Dropping all pretenses, he let his hands fall back to his sides. “Or did you just want me to watch? I’m up for that, too—well, I will be as soon as you and Agent Hottie get it on,” he said, waggling his brows and checking out what little of Liz he could actually see.

“Out.”

“Huh? You want to do this outside? It’s still kinda cold out, but—”

“ _Get out_!”


	6. #22: "You've got a little - here, let me"

This had been her fantasy once, years ago, when she had been desperate for safe and secure and _normal_ in the midst of danger and panic and chaos. She had become a slave to that vision, eagerly turning a blind eye to anything and everything that would’ve compromised her perceived chance at the picture-perfect life. That ignorance—that _denial_ —had repeatedly led her into a darkness that, without Red’s persistent guidance, she could never have found her way back from.

Elizabeth owed him her life, and Raymond had taken her heart.

But instead of feeling robbed or empty or vindictive, she felt… full.

Full of gratitude, of happiness.

Full of regret and shame.

He’d loved her even when he had lost her.

Neither of them could ever forget that, but they’d learned to keep it behind them, to look forward instead of back.

So, here they were.

The sun was shining and the sky was clear, the park was neither crowded nor deserted, and she was here with the people she loved most in this world. Dembe was pushing Agnes on the swings, while she and Red sat on what had quickly become _their_ bench, eating their ice-cream in comfortable silence.

“I think that was the best ice-cream I’ve had in years.”

Smiling at the comment, she turned to face him—and laughed.

“What?” He squinted suspiciously, even as an unmistakable fondness curled his lips.

“You’ve got a little—here, let me.” Then, without waiting for a response, she leaned in and brushed her thumb just at the corner of his mouth, where a smudge of chocolate had been. “As adorable as that was, I don’t think the Concierge of Crime would’ve appreciated it,” she said, grinning widely.

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat, “it’s a good thing that smug bastard isn’t here, then.”

“Oh? Where has he gone?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Really, Lizzie, haven’t you heard that talking of other men while on a date is a no-go?”

“I wasn’t aware this was a date?”

“Go ahead, Elizabeth. What’s one more hit to my ego, after all, hmm.”

Playfully slapping his chest, she slid closer until their thighs touched, close enough to feel his low chuckle.

That fantasy she once had?

Reality was so much better.


	7. #57: Don't stop on my account

Elizabeth entered the small Italian restaurant, immediately noting the fresh aroma of dough and tomato, the warm lighting and the cozy atmosphere. There were only a few other diners present, so it was easy to spot Red sitting in a booth facing the door. He smiled at her in greeting, and she ignored the stutter in her chest, pretending to be annoyed.

“Really, Red? This couldn’t be done over the phone?”

“And risk leaking intel? You know better than that, Elizabeth,” he said, handing her a menu. “So, what will you have to eat? I must say, the truffle pasta here is—”

“Eat? We’re here to work, not socialize.”

“I agree with you completely,” he nodded, “but it is a restaurant, and it is lunchtime.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll get the truffle pasta.”

“Excellent choice.”

Not two minutes later, their food was being served.

“You ordered before I got here?” she asked rhetorically, drool pooling in her mouth as the steaming dish was placed in front of her.

“I like to be prepared.”

“What were you going to do if I had wanted something else?”

“I would have gotten you something else.”

She hummed, not truly bothered by his presumptive nature.

As he began talking about their next blacklister, she took a forkful of the creamy noodles, a moan escaping her throat as she chewed. _Damn._ She was glad she hadn’t bothered with the menu, for she couldn’t imagine being served anything better than what she was currently eating—not surprising, considering whom the recommendation came from.

Her eyes had fluttered shut at some point, and upon finally opening them, she was met with Red’s amused face. Apparently, he’d realized she wasn’t listening to a single word he was saying.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” he said, lips twitching.

She smiled meekly—but didn’t put her fork down.

“Sorry… I didn’t have any breakfast today,” she offered by way of explanation. “I ended up burning Agnes’ grilled cheese, so I had to make her frozen waffles, but I couldn’t find the syrup, and then we were running late…”

“As I said, Lizzie, it is a restaurant, and it is lunchtime.”

Nodding, she took a sip of water instead of the wine that’d been offered, then blurted, “She misses you, by the way.”

Red’s brows rose in what was almost a flinch. “Agnes?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Evidently, Red didn’t know what to say to that.

Elizabeth decided to help him out.

“She asked when you and Dembe would be coming over again.”

“Oh.”

_God, this man._

“So, what should I tell her?” When he didn’t respond, she called, “Red?”

Snapping back from wherever his mind had taken him, he tilted his head and chuckled.

“Tell her we’re having pizza tonight.”


	8. #59: Are you jealous?

“Oh, my god. You look fantastic!”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“Seriously, do you want me to stay by your side tonight—help stave off all the rich cougars?”

He shook his head, chuckling adorably.

“Okay, maybe I—” 

“You’ll be happy to know,” a low voice cut in, “Dembe is perfectly capable on his own, Elizabeth.”

Swiveling on her heels, she directed her wide grin to the pouting man. “Hi, Red.”

“Hello, Lizzie,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek as he eyed each slope and curve of her lean frame. “You look…”

“Yes?”

He smiled softly, tilting his head. “ _Incandescent_.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear, she added, “And I like your tux.”

Slowly, he nodded, a subtle pinch appearing between his brows. 

Suddenly nervous, she began playing with the dainty gold chain dangling from her wrist. “Is something wrong?” she asked, wondering what she could’ve possibly said or done to upset him.

“Not at all,” he replied, clasping his hands in front of him. “Why? Do _you_ think something is wrong?”

“Uh…” _Was this a trick question?_ “No?”

“Excellent. Ready to leave, then?”

“Yes?”

Without further ado, he turned and walked out the door.

_What the hell?_

It didn’t get any better during the ride to the gala.

Normally, Red would pass the time relaying endless anecdotes—all strange but each unique—or at least talk about their current blacklister, but tonight, it seemed, he’d decided to play moody and pensive and quiet, somehow breathing the same thick air that was threatening to choke her.

Elizabeth was going to put an end to that right now.

“All right,” she said, just short of gritting her teeth, “What is it?”

He quirked a lone brow, irritating her further. “What is what?”

“No riddles, not now,” she said firmly. “Just say whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

“I don’t believe I have anything to say at the moment.” A pause, heavy with intention. “But perhaps there’s something you’d like to say?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe you’d like to tell me you no longer want to be my plus one?”

“Red,” she breathed with what little patience she had left, “the only reason we’re going to this thing is to meet _your_ contact. Whose plus one would I be if not yours?”

“I recall you being quite keen on staying by Dembe tonight.”

_Oh my god._

This man. This infuriating man was—

“Are you jealous?” She almost laughed, the tension leaving her body immediately. “Seriously, Red? Of Dembe?”

“Of course not,” he denied gruffly, avoiding her amused eyes. “That would be terribly silly and embarrassingly immature of me.”

“Well, just for the record, I wasn’t lying when I said he looked fantastic.”

Ah. The return of the pout.

“But as handsome as he is… Dembe’s not my type.”

“… What is your type, then?”

Digging her teeth into her curling bottom lip, she leaned towards him, feeling a sharp thrill at hearing the hitch in his breath. Gently grasping his stubborn chin, she took her time in answering him, pressing chaste kisses along his smooth jaw before lingering at his ear and cheekily whispering…

“A terribly silly and embarrassingly immature man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even a petty Red is adorable ;)


	9. #45: Can you two please get a room?

“ _Shit_ ,” Elizabeth hissed as soon as Aram left the kitchen. “Do you think he knows?”

Leisurely marinating the salmon fillets, he drawled, “Knows what?”

Red was either truly oblivious, or he was just trying to aggravate her already heightened nerves.

Knowing him, she’d bet on the latter.

“About _us_!” She threw her hands in exasperation, beginning to pace back and forth. “I mean, seriously, _libido_? He got _libido_ from you cooking salmon? _Aram_ did? Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t stutter just saying the word.”

“Lizzie, please, you’re acting as though he asked if we’re sleeping together.”

“He practically did!… Sort of.” Abruptly stilling, she turned to him with a familiar glint in her eyes. “Was he right?”

Red was genuinely confused this time. “… About?”

“Did you get the salmon for your libido?”

“Really, Elizabeth,” shaking his head, he clucked his tongue, “I don’t know whether to be amused or offended.”

“I guess that would depend on your answer.”

“No, I did not get the salmon for my libido,” he said dryly, washing his hands before settling them low on her waist. “When it comes to that department, all I need is you.”

“Really? No aphrodisiacs you’re partial to?”

Nodding seriously, he leaned in just a little closer, still able to see her darkening eyes when he quietly said, “There is one, but there’s only a single source for it in the entire world.”

“What is it?”

“I’d show you right now…” Slowly, his fingers crawled their way to the button of her jeans—not undoing them, just grazing it with a meaningful touch. “But I presume you’d appreciate a little more privacy than what our current situation offers.”

Bringing her palm to the back of his neck, nails gently raking along his scalp, she whispered, “What if I told you that you were wrong to presume?”

“I’d show you just how sorry I am.”

“Right now?”

“God, yes.”

She smirked, her lips brushing his as she hummed, “Then—”

“Can you two please get a room?” Dembe swiftly interrupted from his spot at the door, face stern as he cleared his throat. “I was looking forward to that salmon.”

Even as she ducked her head in embarrassment, she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry, Dembe.”

Raymond, on the other hand, resigned himself to a heavy sigh. “Yes, well, it seems not everyone will be getting what they want.”

“Later.” Giggling as she pressed a quick peck beneath his ear, she added, “Maybe the salmon will surprise you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to. ;)


	10. "I'll walk you home" (18) + "Take my jacket" (16)

Turning around to bid them goodnight, Elizabeth was surprised to see that Red had already stepped out and was rounding the car to her side.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“My building is right across the street, Red.”

“The _streets_ are not what they used to be, Elizabeth. Very dangerous. You never know if some maniac will jump out of the bushes, or if a mad squirrel will fall from a tree, or if—“

“You made your point,” she laughed, lightly swatting his arm, “now, let’s hurry before a mad squirrel attacks us.”

“Excellent idea, Lizzie, but first…” Before she could think to stop him, he swiftly removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Take my jacket.”

“Red, I’m fine—“

“Humor me.”

With an exasperated huff, she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, wordlessly accepting his truly unnecessary offer.

Contrary to his wild claims, the streets were very much deserted, allowing them to cross the road as though they were simply enjoying a leisurely midnight stroll. It was nice, she thought. Peaceful. The quiet curtain of night offered an illusion of privacy, and even the normally harsh white of the lamps appeared to glow in an almost golden hue, warming the path just for them.

“I actually had a fun time tonight.”

“Did you think you wouldn’t?”

“It’s not what I usually expect when it comes to undercover missions,” Elizabeth said dryly, subtly leaning into him as they reached the sidewalk. “I mean, the Syrian Embassy? Wujing? The Kings’ Auction? That time—“

“You’ve made your point, Elizabeth.” His low chuckle heated her flesh more than his expensive coat. “Now, you should go inside before you catch a cold.”

She hadn’t even realized they’d reached the entrance.

“Speaking of cold,” she gently clasped his hand, only to grip it tight when she felt his cool skin, “you’re freezing!”

“Yes, I must admit, that seems be happening quite frequently nowadays. I think my age is getting to me, Lizzie. The slightest indication of wind leaves me shivering. Sometimes, I’ll get the most horrendous cold that lasts days upon miserable days, and—“

“Red.”

“Yes?”

“I still have the wine you brought me last week.”

“Really? I thought it would all be gone by now.”

“You gave me six bottles, Red.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” she smirked, opening the front door, “now, would you like to come upstairs and share a bottle with me? Or would you rather risk catching a horrendous cold and being miserable for days and—”

“I thought you’d never ask, Lizzie.”


	11. #90: You need to take your shirt off

“Elizabeth,” Red opened the door, “this is not a good time.”

“I’ve been calling you all day. Dembe didn’t pick up.”

“Dembe didn’t pick up because we were busy.”

“Well, then you should have dug that chip out of your damn neck.”

Resigned, he stepped back and allowed her to come in. “Well, you’re here now, so what’s on your mind?”

“I…” Taking a seat on the couch, she watched as he downed his drink before pouring himself another. “You didn’t answer the phone.”

He nodded, dropping into the armchair across from her. “Yes, we’ve established that already.”

“It’s just… You always answer—or you at least get back to me.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled, appearing curiously pleased. “You were worried about me.”

“I was not—“ Catching her own lie, she snapped her mouth shut. Then, shoulders slumping, she quietly muttered, “Is that so surprising?”

Sensing her change of mood, his features softened from smug to sincere. “I never want you to worry about me, and yet I’m happy you do, all the same.”

“So?” She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling awkward. “What were you so busy with, anyway?”

“Meetings to be held, deals to be made.”

She rolled her eyes at his characteristic obscurity. “And nothing went wrong this time?”

He took a generous gulp of his scotch.

“What is it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“You’re avoiding my eyes, which means you’re hiding something.” She wasn’t sure whether she should feel worried or proud when his twitch confirmed her suspicion. “So, what aren’t you telling me?”

“There was a small moment of miscommunication.”

“Red.”

“A few shots were fired…”

“What?” She immediately came to a stand in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he chuckled, and she breathed a sigh of relief—until he added, “Not really.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Well, it was just a minor flesh wound—not much more than a scratch, I assure you.”

“Where—“ Scanning his body, she realized blood was dripping down his fingers. “You’re bleeding!”

“Ah, the stitches must have torn.”

“You need to take off your shirt.”

“I’m fine, Lizzy.”

“Now.”

“Really, Elizabeth—“

“ _Reddington_.”

Pouting, he ignored her.

“If this is about your back, I already know.”

That got his attention.

Taking pity on his shocked state, she explained, “We were on the run together for months, Red.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice barely more than a low rumble.

Shaking her head, she shrugged. “I didn’t see the need to.”

“You don’t have any questions?”

“Oh, I do,” she laughed, though it was void of mirth, “but they can wait.”

“… Until?”

“Until we’re ready.” When he didn’t say anything, she prodded, “Okay?”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Now, will you let me help you?” Without waiting for his reply, she gently tugged his jacket off, wincing at his bloodstained sleeve. “Scratch, my ass.”

Tilting his head, he arched his brows and smirked.

“Shut up,” she slapped his wound, immediately feeling bad but trying to hide it, “You know what I meant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the General Ludd ep for the first few lines


	12. "Tell me what's wrong" (18) + "You've been quiet" (30)

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“So?”

“It’s been two minutes since I answered your call, and all you’ve said so far is ‘hey.’”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes?” She frowned, turning to her side. “I don’t want to keep you from sleeping.”

“You’re not.”

“Oh.”

“Elizabeth.”

Closing her eyes, she rolled over to once again lie on her back. “I don’t know why I called.”

“Were you having trouble sleeping?” he asked, concern lacing his low voice.

“Yes.”

“Nightmares?”

She shook her head, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see her. “No, no nightmares, just…”

“Is the bed not to your liking?”

She nearly snorted. “I’ve never been in a bed more comfortable, Red.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. After a beat of lingering silence, he asked, “What is it that’s keeping you awake, Lizzy?”

“It’s quiet,” she blurted.

“What was that?”

“It’s too quiet,” she repeated, her words little more than a hushed mumble. Clearing her throat, she did her best to ignore her growing embarrassment, thankful he wasn’t here to witness the flush on her cheeks. “This apartment you bought me—it’s clean, it’s secure… I feel _safe_ , I do.”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I’m used to hearing leaking faucets and rumbling pipes, the too loud television from the room beside mine, the sound of cars pulling in and out of the lot...” She sighed, somehow both drained yet wired. “I’m used to having that noise distract me from… well, _everything_ , and this silence just reminded of how alone I really am. I’m—I just… I feel so alone, Red.” When all she could hear was a faint rustling sound, she meekly whispered, “Red?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She blinked, not sure she heard him right. “Um…”

“Elizabeth,” he said, just as she was about to hang up. “You may be many things, but alone is not one of them. You have me—always.”


	13. “Come cuddle” (25) + “Do not tempt me” (72) + “I didn’t drive all this way to say ‘hey’” (80)

Raymond quietly closed the door behind him, not wanting to wake Elizabeth if she was sleeping.

“Hey, handsome.”

Eyes wide and brows high, he whirled around on his feet, more surprised at her words than the fact that she was awake. “Elizabeth.”

She frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately concerned. Approaching her bedside, he gently took hold of her hand. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” she nodded, bringing their entwined hands to her chest, “right here.”

This time, he frowned. “That doesn’t sound right. I’ll call—“

“You hurt me.”

His jaw went slack, a heavy, familiar ache settling in his own chest. “Elizabeth…”

“Stop it.” Her eyes began to water, and she disentangled their fingers to swipe at the dew weighing on her lashes. “Stop calling me that.”

“Stop calling you what?” he asked quietly, genuinely confused amidst the hurt. He had only called her by her name. Did she want him to go back to _Agent Keen_? God, he hoped she wasn’t planning on calling him ‘Reddington’ again.

“ _Elizabeth._ ”

“That _is_ your name.”

“No, it’s not—not to you,” she said, glaring at him as she sniffled loudly. “To you, it’s _Lizzie_.”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting.

The tension left his body so rapidly, he damn near fell to his knees as he smiled like a fool and breathed, “Lizzie.”

Finally happy, she flashed him a toothy grin and stretched her arms out as though asking for a hug. “Now, come cuddle.”

“Eli—Lizzie…” Still trying to get a hold of himself after the short but intense rollercoaster of emotions, he hadn’t been ready for her sudden request. Shaking his head, he tapped his thigh nervously. “Please, do not tempt me.”

He knew she would regret it by tomorrow—at least, if she even managed to remember any of this.

“I didn’t drive all this way to say ‘hey,’” she said, very seriously.

Raymond couldn’t help his sudden bark of laughter, which only grew louder at the sight of his Lizzie clearly wondering whether she should be upset or not, her lips twitching even as she tried to maintain her pout.

“You didn’t drive here at all, sweetheart,” he said dryly, finally calm enough to speak. “This is the hospital. You arrived here by ambulance.”

“Oh, god,” she moaned, patting her body blindly, “was I shot? I was, wasn’t I?”

“You weren’t shot, Lizzie,” he said, failing to keep a straight face. “You had appendicitis.”

“Oh.” She paused, taking a moment to process the information. “Is appendicitis supposed to feel like this?”

Quickly sobering, he asked, “Like what? Does it hurt?”

“No, but I feel…” she blinked slowly, her words beginning to slur, “like I’m floating.”

“Ah, that would be the morph—“

Realizing she had fallen asleep, he allowed himself to sit in the available chair and cover her hand with his own. Then, leaning forward, he kissed her forehead and whispered against her skin, “I’ll be here when you wake up, Lizzie.”


	14. Can we please...?

“Can we, please?”

“Red, you know better than-”

“Oh, but I don’t, Lizzie. _You know_ I never know better.” 

“Reddington-”

“ _Reddington_? Really, Elizabeth? We’re not even in the bedroom.”

“Oh, my God-”

“Again, we’re not in the bedroom, but... I suppose we could pull the emergency stop-”

“For God’s sake-”

“Shh, Lizzie, just follow my lead.”

Just then, the elevator doors slid open. Making sure the agents were all in sight, Red began coughing into his sleeve, being as loud and obnoxious as he could. “Oh,” he stood before a frowning Ressler, “hello, Aram.” 

“Um,” Aram cleared his throat meekly, “actually, I’m right here, Mr. Reddington.”

Red turned to a concerned-looking Harold. “Please, accept my apology, Aram. I’m afraid I’m-” he wheezed, “I’m a little under the weather, unfortunately.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Red?” Cooper took a subtle step back. “You should be resting.”

“Agent Keen doesn’t think so,” he replied pitifully, ignoring the two holes burning in the back of his head. “According to her, there’s no rest for a wicked criminal like me.” 

“Hey, I did not-”

“It’s okay, Elizabeth, really. I understand. I’m just an informant to you, after all. I’m sure if I were on my deathbed, you’d make sure my last words were yet another name on the Blacklist. No sick day for me. I-”

“Enough.” Cooper pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath. “Red, go to bed. Take a sick day. Hell, take a sick week.”

Red sighed. “Don’t worry about me, Harold. Even if I went to my current safehouse, I’d be all alone. I sent Dembe away, you see. His vacation days were piling up.” He sneaked a peek at an incredulous Lizzie. “If only I had someone to nurse me back to health...”

“I don’t need you infecting my agents, Reddington,” Cooper said, his deep tone growing weary by the second. “Agent Keen, take the week off and make sure our... prized informant gets some rest”

“But sir-”

“Take the week off, Elizabeth. We’ll all be here when you two get back.”

Liz nodded and began walking to the elevator, trying not to stomp her feet. She didn’t hear Red following her, but of course he silently slipped in just before the doors closed. 

“The jet’s ready, our bags are packed-”

“When did you-”

“And we have a week to ourselves,” he cut her off swiftly, backing her into the corner with a smug curve to his lips. “So, where to, Lizzie? Have I ever mentioned how radiant you look in a guayabera dress?”


	15. "Can I have one last kiss?"

“Can I have one last kiss?”

Her voice was quiet, almost meek, and it complemented her sullen features so endearingly, Raymond couldn’t help but smile. 

He could deny her nothing - especially this. 

Pecking her soft lips, he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “This is already the third ‘last kiss’ Lizzie,” he pointed out, not bothering to hide his amusement. 

“Do I really have to go?” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

“If you don’t, I’m afraid they’ll think I’m holding you here against your will,” he said, his grin widening as she wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest. “We wouldn’t want Donald knocking the door down. Dembe would shoot him.”

“And you’re against that?”

“His blood would stain the carpet.”

She quirked a brow, as if to say, _seriously?_ “You have people who take care of that.”

“Yes, and I pay them far too much.” 

She snorted, then looked up at him with her wide, blue eyes. “... I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Lizzie. But you do realize we’ll only be apart for a few hours?” 

“I know.” She sighed, nodding. He was about to release her from his embrace when she tightened her grip. Pouting, she whispered, “One last kiss?”

Chuckling, he lowered his head, their lips already touching as he said, “Of course, Lizzie.”


	16. "Can you be the one to do it?"

“God, I’m so nervous. Look, my hands are shaking,” she said, shoving her hands in his amused face. 

“I can see that,” he clasped her hands and lowered them to her sides. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fine. What are they gonna do? Arrest me?”

“Actually, they just might,” she said, paling a shade. “I know Ressler wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

“I’m Raymond Reddington-”

“Exactly! Oh, my God. What if they arrest _me_?” 

“Lizzie, they’re not going to arrest us.” 

“How can you be so sure?!”

He chastised her with a fondly exasperated look. “They’re your family.” 

Feeling a little more calm, she smiled softly. “And they’re your friends.”

“Close enough,” he accepted, shrugging. 

They didn’t make it two steps out of the elevator before Elizabeth clutched Red’s arm in a death-grip, her eyes and tone both pleading as she whispered, “Can you be the one to do it? Please, Red?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Leave it to me.” 

“Leave what to you?” Ressler asked, scowling. “Nothing ever ends well when left to you.” 

“Oh, hi, guys,” Liz greeted the squad, rubbing her sweating palms against her coat. “Red has something he wants to tell-”

Cutting her off, and shocking the hell out of everyone, Red kissed her. In the most non-platonic way possible. 

“Reddington, what the hell-”

“Elizabeth and I are intimately involved, Harold. I thought the kiss made that obvious just now.”

“I knew it!” Aram practically shrieked, smiling giddily. 

“Since when?” Ressler asked, hands coming to a rest on his hips.

Red rolled his tongue against his cheek. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that, Donald.”

“Is that all?” Cooper asked sarcastically. 

“Um, actually…” Liz bit her lip, her cheeks flushed a rosy red. 

“Elizabeth is pregnant.”

“What? How-”

Red chuckled. “You see, Donald, when a man and woman love each other very much…”


	17. *dancing lizzington request*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I asked my tumblr friends to send me lizzington or tbl gifs to my inbox and I would write a ficlet inspired by it... and tangyyeet sent me a picture of lizzington dancing (or at least I interpreted it to be dancing??) anyway, this was the result :)

“What are you doing?” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying her best to not make a scene.

Unfortunately, that meant she couldn’t stomp her heel - her very high, very sharp heel - into his toe.

He smiled pleasantly. “Dancing?”

“I don’t know how to dance a freaking milonga, Red!”

“Oh, I disagree, Lizzie,” his hand slithered up the slit in her dress, scorching the skin of her thigh as he brought it to his waist, “a milonga is a _seduction_ ; violence and _sex_ balanced on the blade of a knife… all of which you’re _intimately_ acquainted with,” he purred against her ear, their chests flush together. 

She swallowed dryly, the rapid pulse of her heart clashing with the dramatic beat of the music. 

Then, all too suddenly for her to make sense of things, the song changed: slower, lighter, and it gave her just enough room to take a shaky breath.

“Ah,” reluctantly letting go of her leg, he retreated the barest step, “a waltz.”

The way he looked at her now, his eyes soft, his lips curled ever so slightly… The way it made _her_ feel… She couldn’t dare label it herself, but she had to know what it meant to _him_.

“What’s a waltz?” she said quietly, just loud enough to be heard by him while the music drifted further and further away from their little bubble. At the questioning tilt of his head, she continued, “If a milonga is… _violence and sex_ , what’s a waltz?… What is _this_ , Red?”

He didn’t reply immediately, and his silence stretched long enough for the song to end and for their bubble to pop. But just as she was about to step back in disappointment, letting her hands fall from his now still body, he caught and tangled her fingers with his and said- 

“Love, Lizzie. This is love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to make requests on my Tumblr! (codewordpumpkin)


End file.
